Siege and Surrender
by Netherworld
Summary: A story that follows Avengelyne Shepard on her various ordeals while trying to save the beleaguered galaxy. Despite her best efforts, a certain azure-eyed Asari catches the stoic Spectre off guard and lays siege to her flinty heart. The stakes keep raising as newer and more dire situations engulf the Commander, and Shepard knows she'll be forced to choose sooner or later.
1. Chapter 1

_Bullets were flying past her ears, hitting those who weren't as carful or as fast as she was. The occasional slug burrowed itself into her Mercenary X armor, of course, but she just kept running, evading the erratic shots. Under the helmet covering her eyes, her lips were curled into a feral leer, one she wore in every blood-curdling battle. There was something, a feeling, perhaps, that she loved in such moments. There was no time to ponder that now; she'd do it back on the ship, if she ever made it out alive in the first place._

_**Bang!**__ Another slug hit her in the reinforced chestplate, setting her back a couple paces, but never slowing her down. "Come on, you lazy sissies!" she screamed to the men behind her, never bothering to glance across her shoulder to see if they were even still there. "Let's wipe out these Batarian slaver bastards!" her voice was already hoarse from all the screaming she'd been doing, but it was the last of her concerns at the moment. If an aching throat was the worst of her ailments at the end of the day, she'd be thanking the Lord up above; she'd have to start believing in him first, of course, but after this mission…It wasn't such an outlandish possibility, what with the goings on._

_Her back hit the thick steel barricade as she dropped to avoid another rapid-fire. __Where is that goddamned sniper?!__ Her thoughts were racing as she held fast to her gun, chancing a quick glance over the edge of the cargo box she'd hidden behind. She turned her face to the last few soldiers that had breached into the base together with her, eyeing each one with a long gaze. "Okay, listen up, ladies," she shouted over the sound of bullets raining down on their cover. "That's the last of them fuckers, and we've got to hit them with everything we've got. I know many of our friends died today, but that's precisely why we have to keep on fighting!" She hated that she couldn't see their faces, their feelings - their __**fear -**__ under those helmets. She had no way of knowing if they were even ready, or already crying. __**No matter, Lynn,**__ she reminded herself, her inner voice strict, but audibly tired. "The drinks are on me the next time we get shore leave, girls! Just make sure you'll be there to down them!" she finished her last command. Her last words to what was left of a whole squad. What else was she to say? Could she have done it any differently? But most importantly:_

_Would it have changed anything?_

_No matter, Lynn,_ rang in her thoughts even as she kept staring at Admiral Hackett, her voice hollow as she finished her report. She was drained, dark circles under her eyes, but her own mouth kept on going without her, repeating the events of that horrific day in every excruciating detail. After all, Shepard always did what was asked of her, didn't she?

* * *

The Alliance command declared the mission a success, even if the woman herself had objected. Her pleas to leave the thing well alone and give her an honorable discharge were ignored; even more, she was promoted. _Commander Shepard._ The rank was like scalding coffee on her tongue, bitter and burning. She had done nothing to deserve the title! Getting a whole squadron of good, trained marines killed took a heartlessness she didn't think she had."What have I become?" she whispered into the empty room.

The question floated, unanswered, in the air before her, as the newly anointed Commander stared at herself in the small mirror of her new quarters' bathroom. For killing a hundred men, she'd been given a promotion, a fancy medal and even a terrifying moniker; at least 'The Butcher of Torfan' she could agree with it. It was the only thing she deserved among the three. But what could she do? Shepard had always obeyed orders; a soldier to boot. She had been raised that way, trained that way and had been living that way for the past ten years. The army was her sanctum, her refuge ever since her family had been killed by the very slavers she herself had killed on Torfan. The military took her in, gave her a place, a purpose; they gave her a second chance. And in return? _Excellent work, Lynn. You've sacrificed a whole lot of good men for your own petty vengeance._

"Good God," she murmured into the deafening silence around her, leaning her burning forehead on the gentle, cool feel of glass.

* * *

"Reminiscing again, Commander?" came a warm voice from behind her, rousing her from her memories. She shook her head to clear her befuddled mind. _Silly you,_ she reprimanded herself sternly even as she hastily scrambled to her feet, saluting the Captain. "I'm sorry, Captain Anderson," she replied, but she couldn't mask the weariness in her voice well enough to fool the man.

"It's alright, Shepard," her replied with a smile, allaying her worries. Even though she hadn't been serving with the famous Captain long, she could already see why he had such a good reputation among the soldiers. He was kind and took his time to know the crew. But most of all, he didn't pick on them just for the fun of it, like many officers were wont to do.

She offered a small, tired smile of her own in return, and let her hand fall to her side. "It's just all this mess with Torfan, Captain." The words spilled from her lips before she could stop herself. _Damn,_ she bit her tongue, but it was already too late.

"Don't worry, Commander," the man answered, taking a seat across the table. "I'd be much more concerned if you weren't bothered by it all, actually," he smiled again and intertwined his fingers. "That mission was a difficult one, Shepard. I'd dare say that almost anyone else would've failed it spectacularly. The casualties were high, that's for sure, but at least you got the job done," he continued with that calm, deep voice while his warm eyes regarded her still.

It was stupid, really, to break like a youngling after her first action; and before her commanding officer no less! But what was done was done and as she had no way to rectify it, she might as well go with it. "Thank you, Captain. I guess I needed to hear it from someone other than the Admiral," her smile was still half-hearted, but at least her eyes were a little brighter.

"Don't mention it, Shepard," he smiled even wider and rose back to his feet. "I take it you'll be back to your fullest by tomorrow, then?" he winked, and she could almost, **almost** sense an undertone of mirth in his voice. But officers don't joke, do they? Confused, she kept staring at his back even as he retreated up the stairs and to the CIC.

* * *

**AN: **This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic with actual plot, so bear with me. I've no way of knowing how often I'll be updating, but reviews, critique and the like will certainly stoke my motivation. *hint hint nudge nudge*


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh, for the love of God!_

She was annoyed beyond belief. Not only did that damned Thurston down in engineering wake her from her beauty sleep **much** earlier than advisable for his health; the Captain had just informed her that they had to report to Admiral Hackett for some matter or the other. She balled her hands into fists and sent a scorching glare Thurston's way, mouthing a set of threats that she was very capable of executing. Or at least the man thought so, because he scurried off as if the Devil himself were on his heels.

_One point for Shepard, zero for Thurston,_ the Commander grinned smugly and stretched her arms; her sleep had been interrupted and now every muscle in her body felt like useless gum. _Great, just what I needed on a day like this,_ Lynn rolled her eyes as she headed for the crew quarters. She had a briefing to prepare for, after all.

* * *

A Mass relay jump later, their beautiful, if a little old SSV Crimson docked in the imposing Arcturus Station, the nerve center of Alliance. Shepard was leaning on the side-window as they drew closer, admiring the view despite having seen the Station more times than she cared to count. It was where she had grown up, right alongside thousands of others who had nowhere else to go but the military. It wasn't the best of childhoods – if it ever counted for a childhood, that is – but at least it **was**; and that was more than could be said for her little brother and sister.

Shepard frowned at the thought, but was saved by her Captain's beckoning call: "Come on, Commander, we've got an Admiral to meet!" his voice rang clear across the mess hall, and she was eager to oblige; anything to get the nasty memories off her mind.

As they stepped out of the airlock, she was all too happy to follow Anderson across the station, lost in her own ponderings. It had been quite some time since she'd last visited the heart of the Alliance, but it sure rekindled a number of bittersweet souvenirs. A small smile curled the edges of Commander's lips as she caught sight of the N7 wing.

The wistful expression on her face didn't escape the Captain's keen eye, though, and that mirth-laced tone of his soon reached her ears. "Are any of them good?" he asked, the question simple, yet its meaning completely clear. "Some," she replied softly, tearing her gaze away from the facilities that molded her into the efficient war machine she was. _The Butcher of Torfan,_ she scoffed at herself, rolling her eyes. _**Very**__ efficient, I'd say, _her inner voice added mockingly, but she ignored the little bitch and focused on Anderson beside her.

"Any idea why we're here, sir?" she turned her green eyes back to the statuesque man, but he just shook his head. "No more than you, Commander, I'm afraid," he sounded sincere enough; in any case, the answer was just around the corner.

They reached the elevator that would take them to the Alliance Navy HQ, but a pair of heavily-armed guards stopped them. "Your ID, please," they asked in unison, their voices leaving no room for objection. The pair calmly handed them their credentials while the two scanned their DNA; and then, after a short ride up, they were standing in the briefing room.

* * *

The whole ordeal was over very quickly, to Shepard's surprise. Admiral Hackett, too, was an efficient man with many a duty, and had little time to dawdle; not that she minded, of course. Most people took their time with longwinded speeches in cases such as these, but the man was short and brisk, never squandering a single second. She must've been smiling with satisfaction, because the Captain's voice roused her from her musings soon enough.

"I see you're excited by the prospect, Commander," it was more a statement than a question, so Shepard merely nodded in reply, offering Anderson a small smile of her own. "No offense to your ship, Captain," she added, her grin growing a little wider, "but a new frigate would be nice. And a state-of-the-art too!" she could barely contain her enthusiasm now, and the passersby were giving her strange looks; it **does** look odd, seeing a fully grown woman in N7 armor nigh skipping down the corridor.

"Don't you ever worry about damaging your reputation, Commander?" Anderson lifted an eyebrow, but that warm smile of his assured her that he was only humoring her. "Why, what a strange question, sir!" she exclaimed in mock shock, placing a hand across her plated heart. "A single smile will not diminish my fame as the Pink Vanquisher of the Mad Unicorns, will it?"

They left the Arcturus Station upping the jokes until they could barely retain their professional dignity. The moment they were back on board of SSV Crimson, though, they burst out in laughter, shocking every other crewmember in the CIC into complete silence. The event was fodder for gossip even weeks after it had actually happened.

* * *

"So who was this Zander, sir?" Shepard directed her inquiry at Anderson, who was beside her, walking towards the Normandy docking bay. _Normandy. What a silly name for a ship,_ the Commander mused, rolling the word around in her mouth. She had a vague idea what it stemmed from – she had had History lessons, attending an Alliance-funded school, after all – but it still sounded strange. She voiced her thoughts on the matter, but the Captain just smiled in reply. "I don't have the answer to any of your queries, Commander," he shook his head at one his XO's many quirks; she was wont to ask questions that no-one even thought of. "But I guess we'll see the ship soon enough. Then you can go interrogate the crew," he added, smirking and the pair stepped into the bay elevator, filling the small space with laughter all the way down.

Their tour of the SSV Normandy SR-1 was a very successful one. The crew was friendly and affable enough, the design efficient, though not flawless, and the drive core… Well, suffice to say that Anderson had to drag her away from the magnificent engine before the Commander became permanently attached to the railing via her own saliva.

"Really, Shepard," the Captain laughed, "You should know better than to come within a five-meter radius of such attractive prototype technology," he chided the woman. But the Commander gave as good as she got, and replied with a smirk: "And **you**, sir, should know better than to **let** me get so close in the first place." "Fair enough," Anderson smiled at his XO's antics.

After their tour they even shared a meal with their future crew in the mess hall; it was surprisingly well-made and tasty, so Shepard subjected the Mess Sergeant to a series of trick-questions in order to determine the origins of their lunch. After coming to a conclusion that it was indeed made with Alliance rations, the Commander declared her undying love for their new ship and happily left, leaving a slightly embarrassed and slightly entertained Captain Anderson to explain the woman to the confused crew.

* * *

Their integration with the stealth ship and her crew was nigh seamless. Despite the strange first impression that their new XO had made, they quickly found out that she was indeed what they had figured her for; the joking, yet stern marine with the impressive title of Butcher of Torfan. Though at first tentative because of her reputation, with the passing months, shared missions and more than one game of Skyllian Five, she eventually earned both their respect and trust.

Shepard herself was more than satisfied with the ship; its performance was magnificent – **especially** if compared to the old SSV Crimson, who seemed like a limping, drooling cripple next to the Normandy – but the best part was still the sin-worthy drive core. In her spare time, when she wasn't playing cards with the crew or sharing jibes with the Captain, Shepard loved to come down into Engineering and just admire that thing of pure beauty. It helped, of course, that the damned Thurston had stayed on the Crimson; he wasn't skilled enough an engineer to be transferred to the Normandy, which needed top-notch people. And that's when Adams came in. He and the Commander got on immediately, seeing as they both shared a great passion for all things technology and engine related. Many stories were shared over bottles of dubious contents that always had Shepard leaving the Engineering a little merrier than on the way down.

Other crew was fun too; really, it seemed that Normandy was a magnet for navy with a sense of humor. The Helmsman, especially, excelled in that compartment; even his nickname dubbed him as such! His name did Joker justice, alright. Despite rarely leaving the cockpit, he liked to pitch in on heated conversations in the mess and send everyone laughing with a well-placed barb. Even Lieutenant Alenko, who seemed to Shepard like stuck-up at first, relaxed after a couple of missions together, and proved her wrong completely. The man sure could tell some mean jokes! And the Chief Medical!

Shepard had watched the composed British woman sweep in and put every stately marine to shame with a single word. Really, Dr. Chakwas was the only one who had ever chided the Commander for the consequences of her crazy battlefield maneuvers and didn't find herself in the medbay with a concussion immediately after.

All in all, the crew was a good, efficient one, and Avengelyne couldn't have been happier. They did their rounds, decommissioned a few smaller merc groups in the Terminus systems, then docked for a shore leave on some planet or the other. Rinse, repeat. Nothing extremely difficult or demanding, but that was completely fine by the Commander. After the Torfan experience, her hunger for impossible odds and insane challenges had diminished somewhat.

Little did she know, however, just what the galaxy had in store for her. It all started with an encrypted message from Admiral Hackett, telling them about a certain colony called Eden Prime and about a certain Spectre who was about to join them.


	3. Chapter 3

Another disgruntled huff left the Commander's chest as she paced in the mess. Her back was ramrod straight, her hands tightly clasped on her back and her eyes blazing; to the relief of the crew, they were directed at the floor, at least. And even then Pressly was concerned that she might very well melt the alloy. Dr. Chakwas tried – once – to approach the angered woman, but even she was turned down. After that, every attempt to pacify Shepard had been abandoned in hopes of Captain Anderson's timely intervention. The crew was lucky this time, it seemed, as the bickering at the helm finally drew the XO to deal with the problem and away from everyone else.

"What the hell, Alenko?" the Commander nearly barked, her green eyes narrowed to slits.

"Ma'am! I'm sorry, ma'am!" the man stood up immediately despite the cramped space between the seat and the console. "Chief Helmsman here was…" That's where the Lieutenant stuttered, at a loss of words.

"Well?" Avengelyne Shepard sent an impossibly murderous glare at the pair and was rewarded with an identical cowering expression on both their faces. "Cut it out this instant, and don't let it happen again. Do we understand each other?" She gave both of them a long, unforgiving look that had them retreating back into the console.

"Crystal clear, ma'am!" They both replied in unison, their only wish to get their angered Commander to leave and pour her dissatisfaction on some other unfortunate bastard. "Excellent," replied Shepard with an icy tone and turned on her heels, stalking away.

"I've never seen Shepard with a stick **that** far up her ass," Joker muttered when he was sure the XO was out of earshot. Alenko just shook his head at the comment "You're asking for it, Joker," the calmer of the two warned the cocky pilot, but smiled nevertheless. "In any case, I've no idea. Maybe she has an issue with that Turian Spectre," he shrugged, not very concerned with the whole situation. They'd installed the latest upgrades for their stealth drive and wanted to test them out, naturally. It was supposed to be just another shakedown run, right? **Right?**

Shepard didn't share the Lieutenant's thoughts in the least. "I know, Pressly," she growled out between her ground teeth, glancing back at the officer. "Something's wrong here. Spectres just **don't** accompany ships on shakedown runs, even if they **are** prototype stealth frigates," she concluded, throwing her hands in the air with frustration. "Still, what can be done?" The Commander pinched the bridge of her nose and drew her hand over her features, angry and confused. A tinny, high-pitched tone rang out into the sudden silence between the two, letting the woman know that she was needed. "Well, that's my cue, Pressly," she sighed and thumbed her pager. "I'll be there right away, Captain."

When the Commander arrived in the comm. room, however, Anderson was nowhere to be seen. In his stead there stood a single heavily-armored Turian figure, with its back facing the door. "Where's the Captain?" The woman nearly spit the question at the Spectre, never one to bother with manners. The Turian, not at all fazed, bid his time as he turned around to face her. His mandibles were twitching softly as he took a few steps closer to the XO, regarding her with a slight disinterest; as far as she could tell, anyway. The Turians' expressions were damnably hard to read, what with all the scales and facial tattoos, never mind the fact that Shepard had never spent enough time around any of them to gain any know-how in the first place. Why bother? She always figured the chances of her winding up serving with non-human crew members were slim.

"Your Captain will be along shortly," the large alien finally deigned to respond as he came to a stop a few scarce centimeters away from the woman. She was tall for a human woman, but still he towered above her. In an effort to even the odds, she narrowed her eyes to glaring slits and did her best to look intimidating. The Spectre was having none of it, however. Quite on the contrary, the Turian let out a short bark that Shepard supposed passed as laughter among his species.

"You're an interesting one, Shepard," he said, as if their silent exchange were some kind of test. The black-haired woman stated as much, but the Turian just smirked again. "All in its due time, Commander," he nodded softly and Lynn could've sworn that his voice sounded patronizing. She was about to call him out on his words, but a low cough behind her reminded her of Anderson's presence. With one last huff, she backed away, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed across her chest. They might force her to comply, but that never meant she would do it enthusiastically.

"So, what's this about?" she lifted an eyebrow as both the Captain and the Spectre stood still in the middle of the comm. room , looking at each other intently. "I thought this was supposed to be just a 'shakedown run'," she made air quotations as she pushed off the wall, coming closer to the pair, "But I'm guessing that fancy Council agents like the Spectres have better things to do than supervise such trivial matters," the pure scowl of her rictus would've been enough to send most people running away, screaming like little girls, but the Turian, to his credit, didn't even flinch.

"There's no need for hostility, Commander," he answered calmly, his subharmonics warming the low range of his voice ever so slightly. The dark eyes of the Turian were trained on the woman as they shared another brief stare showdown; this one, however, was interrupted by Anderson before it could escalate. "Enough of this, Shepard," he intervened, his voice stern and commanding. "You're right, of course," he added quickly, before Lynn's temper could flare again.

"This is no ordinary shakedown run," he sighed, letting his gaze wander. "I'm going to be brief, Commander, as we're closing in on our objective as we speak," the man continued as he fixed the woman before him with a long look. "There's been a recent discovery of great import on the colony we're headed for. A Prothean beacon, to be exact. And it's supposedly more or less intact, which is what makes it so valuable." He was watching his XO intently, searching her face for comprehension. When he was assured she knew what he was talking about, he continued. "But the most important part of the mission is your… evaluation," at this, even the great Captain Anderson looked slightly uncomfortable.

"If we succeed, you are to be accepted within the ranks of the Spectres."

"**What?**" her stupefied expression would've sent the Captain into fits of laughter on any other day, but now it only coaxed a small smile onto his lips. "Don't act so surprised, Shepard," he shook his head as she continued to eye him disbelievingly. That's when the Turian chimed in: "Ever since the business on Torfan, the Council's had their eye on you," he filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle, his mandibles twitching all the while. "They finally decided to send you on an evaluation mission, and if you succeeded… Well, Anderson's told you the rest."

Avengelyne Shepard was still blinking dumbfounded, when Joker pitched in, his voice near-panic.

"Captain, you **have** to see this!" he nigh shouted across the comm. channel and brought up the vid screen before anyone of the trio could react. The footage was short, but self-explanatory.

"This is Eden Prime, I assume?" Anderson's voice was controlled even as his face was wrought with worry. When Joker confirmed his fears, he requested a slight rewind of the vid, and then paused it at a certain moment. The Captain, the Commander and the Spectre all gasped in unison.

"What in the name of all Asari strippers is **that**?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Oh God, folks, I'm so, **so** sorry! *hides* I wish I had a decent excuse for the lack of updates, but I don't, so here's a longer one as means of apology. :)

I swear I'll try to update more frequently in the future.

* * *

After having seen the footage of the dire situation on Eden Prime, everyone jumped into action; Joker navigated his way to the drop points while Shepard, Jenkins and Alenko prepped for ground assault; Captain Anderson issued stern commands that were duly carried out by Pressly and other subordinates; and, finally, the Spectre – Nihlus, as he had presented himself – insisted on going down alone.

The Commander sneered at that prospect and directed her suspicious, narrowed gaze at the Turian. "All on your own, huh?" she lifted an eyebrow as the Spectre shrugged off her hostility and dropped without a concern for the disgruntled woman. Avengelyne remained welded to the spot, still simmering with reined anger, until Joker's voice over the comm. warned them of the approaching drop point. "Come on, girls," she turned to her two comrades with a twisted excitement on her face. "Let's show that prissy Turian who's boss," she spat out and lunged herself through the slide doors.

* * *

Their landing spot was perhaps a mile away from where they'd excavated the Prothean beacon, and the path ahead of them – if it could be called a path, that is – was seemingly clear. Still, Shepard ordered caution for the time being; that the monstrous **thing** they'd seen on the vid spoke volumes about unknown dangers that might lurk on the formerly peaceful garden planet. The sky was painted in hues of red and violet, blazing with an unnatural storm provoked by God knows what, and the Commander shuddered at the sight. For a brief moment, she wondered if the Spectre knew something like this was going to happen; why else would've this been a worthy evaluation mission? The notion was a grim one, but Shepard liked to think that she knew how governments worked, and it was never pretty.

When she almost stumbled over a stone in her way, she angrily forced the distracting thoughts to disperse, gripped the butt of her shotgun more firmly and waved the two men trailing behind her to join her. They had reached the foot of a minor hill, and were now crouching in cover behind a stack of larger boulders. "Jenkins," she hissed through the auditory systems of her helmet, her voice coming out all distorted, "scout ahead," she ordered to the Corporal, her eyes fixed on his every move as he slipped out of cover and onto the slope. On every mission, the Commander evaluated her soldiers with cold exactness, and reprimanded them for any mistakes; she always demanded the very best of those who served with her and had her back.

_He's too exposed,_ Lynn observed as the man rose from the uncomfortable crouching position to try and gaze over the precipice of the hill. A movement on the rounded top drew her gaze between the giant trees sprouting there, but it was already too late as she shouted a warning. The Corporal was shot down in the span of a few milliseconds, laser shots tearing through his armor with vicious power. His limp body hit the ground with a loud thud, and the Commander cringed with memories that flooded her mind. With a low growl of suppressed rage, the woman rolled out of cover and behind one of the smaller rocks littering the grass. Without pausing for a second, she pulled out her pistol as she sent a Warp the enemies' way, shooting down the remaining two that didn't get caught up in the ensuing blast.

With her seething ire leashed for the moment, the Commander rose from behind her cover and signaled for Alenko to join her. The man's eyes behind the visor were wide open, pupils dilated with fear. He expressed his concern over their fallen squadmate, but he was shocked into silence by the sheer iciness of his Commander's response. Their disagreement might've escalated, had the Spectre not chimed in via the comm. Shepard listened to his grave words with an increasingly furrowed brow, until finally the Turian cut the communication, stating it was best if they employed radio silence, seeing as they obviously had tech-savvy enemies. She scoffed at the excuse to put even more distance between himself and what was left of the human squad, and waved away any defense that the Lieutenant tried to give the Spectre.

"Don't even start, Alenko," she dismissed the man and kneeled over Jenkins, ignoring his protests. After she'd slipped the man's eyes closed, she stalked away purposefully, dead set on reaching the beacon before the Turian. "Commander, he's only doing his job!" The sentinel gave her no pause as he followed her up the hill. "Doing his job my ass!" the woman growled over her shoulder as she pressed herself flush against a tree; there were another couple of those floating units a few yards ahead. "Stop whining, Lieutenant, and be useful instead!" she shouted over the sound of enemy fire.

The man, while obviously displeased by what had transpired, obeyed the order to the letter and dutifully overloaded the helpless drones. That, at least, erased the dour expression from Shepard's face, and they both emerged from behind the wide tree trunks to continue on their way. Completely by way of habit, they both entered a light jog, ignoring the suppressing weight of their armor as they pursued their goal.

Again, they were interrupted in their tracks when loud gunshots pierced their ears. In an instant, both marines dropped to the ground and watched with surprise as a woman clad in the distinctive Phoenix armor came rushing by, dispatching the drones that were hot on her heels with an impressive maneuver. In the seconds of dead silence that followed, all that could be heard were three sets of lungs taking in deep breaths to calm their racing hearts. Finally, the Commander rose and offered a hand to the unknown woman, pulling her to her feet. She readily saluted upon seeing the rank on her armor, stating her name and division.

"Very well, Gunnery Chief Williams," Shepard gave her a once-over, and was pleased with what she saw. "Give me a rundown of what happened here," the Commander issued a calm order, and the woman complied. With every word that left the lips of the soldier, the N7 grew more and more concerned. _This simply won't do,_ she thought as she balled her hands into fists. With a nod indicating that she was satisfied with her report, the Commander stalked off. Only after a few paces she realized that neither of the marines were behind her, and turned to face the pair. "Well?!" her voice gave no room for objection. "Both of you, come on! We've got work to do and no time to stand around," she huffed angrily as she entered a run again.

On their way to the excavation site, the trio encountered more resistance, this time in the form of the Geth. Everyone was equally stupefied at the sight, but Alenko was the first to voice their concerns. "Weren't the Geth last seen 300 years ago?" he said, his distress audible in the tone of his voice. Shepard offered a one-liner as means of confirmation, more focused on the obvious lack of **beacons** on the excavation site. Her nostrils flared behind the protective visor of her helmet, and she brought a hand to her comm. to call up the evasive Spectre, when the damned thing rang. Unsurprisingly enough, it was the Turian on the other side.

"A change of plans, eh?" the Commander sneered upon hearing his words, but still related to him how **vacated** the lot they were standing on was. The Spectre, in turn, expressed his concern about the matter, but told her that they'd ponder it once they caught up to each other at the spaceport. Grudgingly, Shepard agreed to the hastily contrived plan, and signaled her impromptu squad to move forth.

And it all just kept going downhill from there. First the Geth that were supposed to be behind their Veil, and then the creatures that were eerily reminiscent of the zombies in those few movies that Lynn had seen in her youth. They certainly shambled and flailed their arms about enough to fit the bill. Her heart was racing more than she cared to admit even after they'd picked the blue monsters off. After interrogating a group of survivors, they finally reached the said spaceport.

"No Spectre in sight," Avengelyne spat out pointedly as they ascended the stairs just recently cleared of Geth. They stopped on the desolate platform, and her mouth fell open. "Shit," was her only exclamation as she ran to the body lying in the middle of the port. "Shit, shit, shit," continued to spill from her lips as she turned the lifeless Turian around, pointlessly searching to check his identity even when she **knew** who he was. "Okay, this is serious fuckery, guys," the Commander spoke in a strangely calm tone of voice as she rose again. "If someone downed a fucking **Spectre**, we're facing something… something," her sentence wavered as she noticed something moving behind the crates.

"Whoever or whatever you are, come out with your hands behind your head! No quick movements or I shoot you on the spot!" the edgy marine shouted at the figure and lifted her pistol. An immense sense of relief washed over her when a scared human emerged, stuttering his apologies and fears. This time, Shepard let Alenko question the man as she took Williams on a quick check-up of the remaining facilities around the spaceport. They all turned up empty, and by the time they were done, the Lieutenant had rejoined them. "Anything useful?" she questioned the man as they moved down the stairs with all the subtlety and care a squad of heavily-armored marines could muster. Alenko shrugged, and a cautious expression flickered over his face. "I don't know, Commander," he muttered as they inched around the corner.

Their exchange was interrupted by another small garrison of Geth stationed along the path to tramway. They gunned them down with the help of Shepard's Biotics and Alenko's tech skills, and were soon on the train and headed for the next platform. Momentarily safe, the Commander turned back to her Lieutenant with an inquisitive gaze in her eyes. Immediately, the man continued, not in the least enthusiastic about invoking her legendary anger. "He said he saw **another** Turian shoot our guy," the sentinel explained carefully, keeping close watch on his Commander's features. Shepard's eyebrows rose as a skeptical look entered her eyes. When she didn't comment, Alenko continued, a tad less afraid. "Anyway, the farmer said that the Spectre relaxed his guard around the other Turian, so that must mean they knew each other, right?"

"**If **there was another Turian, Alenko," the Commander replied finally, turning her gaze towards the rapidly approaching station. "In any case, we'll discuss this on the ship. Now's not the time," she wrapped up the short conversation as they filed from the tramway and were served with the most intimidating of sights.

A bomb.

"Fuck!" This time, it was Williams who cursed as the trio made a beeline for the explosive. Beneath the three capable pairs of hands, the bomb was quickly defused. "I doubt they'll place just one," Shepard remarked darkly as the immediate danger was annulated. "Come on, let's check the rest of this place," she took the point of their formation once more and lead them up the stairs.

Even as they took care of the Geth that seemingly appeared out of thin air to block their way, the Commander's thoughts wouldn't be silenced. They were a mess, a motley mix of memories, tactics from assault training and present misgivings. _What the fuck are the Geth, the fucking __**Geth**__ doing on an unimportant colony like Eden Prime? There's that shitting beacon that's obviously nothing but trouble, but how would they know about that? I thought it was supposed to be fucking top secret. Now we've got AIs, fucking __**zombies**__ and Spectre-killing Turians all over the place,_ Avengelyne was, to say the least, frustrated.

A thorough search of the now-empty facility turned up three more charges which they readily deactivated. Had it not been for the helmet, Shepard would've happily wiped the perspiration off her sweaty forehead. As it was, she was forced to suffer in silence as they descended the last set of stairs leading to the third platform.

And there it was.

The object because of which the blood of so many innocents had been spilled; because of which the gentle, idyllic life of the colonists had been turned upside down and subjected to a nightmare of a reality. As she stood gazing at the damned beacon, Shepard felt only anger for the green spire. God knows what she would've done, it Williams' words hadn't roused her from her downward spiral of ireful thoughts.

"It wasn't glowing like that when we found it," the Gunnery Chief said, clearly bemused about the situation. "Yeah, well, let the scientists worry about that. Our job here is done," the Commander dismissed the woman as she established a comm. channel with the Normandy.

"Captain, can you hear me? Yes, the crisis has been averted, sir, and that huge mothership has left. No, sir, things definitely aren't fine down here. Jenkins is KIA, and the Spectre is too, sir. It's bad… There's some stuff I'm not sure I should put in the report… yes, the beacon is secure," Shepard tried to answer the barrage of questions coming from Anderson, too distracted to notice the Lieutenant closing in on the Prothean device. Had Williams not shouted a warning, things would've probably gone very, very badly that day.

As it was, the Commander turned and sprinted on sheer instinct, knocking Alenko out of the beacon's pull. Instead, she became ensnared herself as the green light engulfed her, sending a torrent of red, flashing images running through her mind. She was drawn from her body, her thoughts and perceptions scattered as a scream tore its way from her throat. The pain was singing, scorching as the memoirs of another race were burned into her brain without order or logic, strewn haphazardly about as if they were mere playthings for a child. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as the agony persisted and finally, mercifully, the Commander lost her consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

_She was running across the barren wasteland like a madwoman, screaming herself hoarse with orders. If only anyone were there to heed them. But slowly, the soldier realized she was alone in the middle of nowhere. The solitary figure in the heart of the deserted plains came to a staggering stop and keeled forward to catch her breath._

_**How long have I been running?**__ flashed through her mind, but the answer didn't matter. Deep down, she knew she was caught in an endless loop of a nightmare, trying desperately yet unable to wake up. It wasn't the first time she'd found herself in the now familiar badlands, abandoned by her platoon just as she had sent them to their deaths despite knowing full well what the odds were. __**We never back down and never give up, do we, Lynn?**_

_A crippling sob wracked the usually stoic, strong figure, and she fell to her knees. The pain, though ghostly, was debilitating. She knew her orders, knew her goal – knew how impossible it all was – and still she had pushed on. __**Ever the perfect soldier, **__her inner voice sneered venomously and spat. Another cry of anguish tore from her sore throat as she hid her tear-streaked face in her hands. Her whole body was shaking with tears she dared spill only in her dreams, reduced to nothing more than a fear-riddled woman who could exist only in this place. This refuge, this sanctuary. Her only redoubt from the world who praised her heinous actions, her only consolation, her only punishment which the people out there refused to give her. __**The hero, **__continued the voice, dripping with poison. __**Congratulations, Avengelyne, for cold-blooded murder,**__ it chuckled, giving her a mental pat on the shoulder even as she shook harder._

_"Why?" the hunched figure in the middle of the drought-dried earth whispered brokenly into the still air around her._

_"Why!?" she was screaming now, tasting the familiar iron and salt on her tongue. She repeated the one unanswered question, ripping apart the stifling, smothering silence that had descended like a blanket upon her with defiant shouts. The taste of blood blossomed fully on her palate now, but she savored the sting and kept shrieking into the emptiness of her own soul until no sound would come forth anymore. Then she used her fists on the cracked, stone-hard mud underneath her feet, bashing and hitting it until it was redder than her own knuckles. And when she could punch no more, Avengelyne Shepard resorted to kicking the unforgiving earth, trying vainly to tear herself apart in the process._

_All she wanted was for the guilt, the terrible guilt to vanish. The grinning demon with her face that she kept glimpsing in her dreams would never disappear, of that she was sure. But if she could at least alleviate the gut-wrenching agony that had thrust its cruel claws into her lead-laden heart, then, perhaps, she could live with herself._

_Commander Shepard lay down into the dust of the earth, willing the cries of her conscience to go away. For a little while, she would not think of what she had done. She would dwell on her actions no more, because they would be back on their own soon enough; to haunt her and chase her to the very brink of madness. Now, she would rest in a futile attempt to find her equilibrium once again, to lock out the ever mounting insanity that kept knocking on the doors of her mind._

_"I refuse to fall."_

* * *

Her eyes flew open at the sound of someone calling her name. Well, the **substitute** for her name, anyway.

"Shepard!" the call came again, only this time it was laced with happiness instead of frustration. "Ha! Told you, Alenko! Told you she'd wake earlier than Chakwas' estimate," Joker's voice rang with triumph as he appeared in her field of vision, smiling from ear to ear in his usual manner. The Commander tried weakly to smile in return, but she knew that her attempt was half-assed even before Helmsman's own smile dwindled at the sight. "You got out of the cockpit for me, Joker. I'm flattered," he pulled a face at her antics, but his smile reappeared nonetheless. With a dismal sigh, he yanked an embarrassed-looking Lieutenant into her field of vision. "Don't be a wuss, Alenko," the Helmsman gave the taller of the two a light pat on the shoulder before retreating.

"Glad you're awake, ma'am," the man greeted her, remorse etched into his features. Lynn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead awarded him with a nod. "Good to see you made it out alright, Lieutenant," she responded, wincing at the sting in her throat. Her nightmare blinked before her eyes, but she dismissed the desert and its despairing occupant, refusing to go back there. She was awake now, and in control of her emotions. Soldiers don't cry; **especially** the Butcher of Torfan. She set her jaw as she pushed the grim thoughts away and focused her eyes back on her two crewmates.

The Lieutenant, seemingly assaulted by guilt at her statement, launched into a tirade of apologies. He was only about halfway through when the Commander had had enough, raising her voice to silence the damn man despite the soreness in her throat. "Fuck, Alenko," she shook her head as the surprised sentinel stopped mid-sentence. "Do you ever shut up?" Her tone, incredulous and not the least bit amused, had him falling for it for a moment. Then he glanced at Joker and saw that the Helmsman was barely keeping it together. The three of them cracked up together, and for a few precious moments, Avengelyne Shepard felt the pain in her chest lift. She closed her eyes to catch the moment and cherish it before it slipped away.

"Good Lord!"

The stern voice of Dr. Karin Chakwas cut through the buzz of their laughter like knife through butter, silencing them as if they were kids back in the military program. Her gray eyes leveled each of them with a long, hard look, and the Commander smirked at the two grown men who trotted off like boys just caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The doctor kept boring holes in their back until they disappeared through the door, impatiently tapping her foot at the floor.

"Really!" the woman exclaimed indignantly as she shook her head. "Coming here and pestering you…" her words trailed off into an incoherent jumble of vaccination and examination threats that had Shepard snickering again."And you!" the doctor turned back to her, eyeing her with one quirked eyebrow. "Just who do you think you are, Shepard, waking up before you're well?" The elderly woman narrowed her silver eyes at her, and Lynn couldn't help but feel like a child underneath that gaze. She retreated back into her cushions, smiling apologetically, and the doctor nodded in victorious approval.

"I thought so. Now go back to sleep," she cast her one last forbidding glance before heading back through the door after having checked the Commander's charts. "And don't you **dare** wake up like this again, do you hear me?" Karin Chakwas could be far, far scarier than Shepard when her patients were being disobedient. More so where the Commander was concerned, since the woman had an absurdly high rate of injury on ground missions. Whenever she could, the doctor would keep Shepard bedridden until absolutely necessary for her to return to her duties. God knows she needed the rest.

* * *

When Shepard woke next, it was with Chakwas' authorization. This time the Captain himself had come to greet her, and Lynn reciprocated with a smile of her own. Slowly she got off the bed, trying not to flinch or give away her nausea, lest the doctor chain her to the bed until further notice. She was a woman of action, for God's sake. She had slacked off for long enough as it was; not to mention the nightmares that had ample time to plague her while she was trying to catch up on the many lost hours of sleep.

"Doctors," Shepard muttered under her breath, but quickly produced a smile when Chakwas whipped around with suspicion budding in her eyes. "What was that, Commander?" she lifted one eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. "I was just thanking you for all the care. You were **very** attentive," the woman ventured carefully as she forced her smile to widen. "Perhaps excessively so?" she added with a hopeful glint to her eye. A few heartbeats passed between them in complete silence, and then the doctor huffed. "Don't be silly, Commander. If it were up to me, you'd **still **be resting," she retorted and shot a pointed look at Anderson, who withstood the ire of the British woman with surprising calm; most adults ran screaming and flailing at the perfected evil eye the doctor could deliver. As soon as they were out of the med bay, though, the Captain slapped his XO across her back and let out a hearty laugh.

"You've got guts Shepard, you really do," he shook his head at the woman's antics as they stalked away to the CIC. "Anyway," the man continued as they came to a halt in front of the Galaxy map. "I've already forwarded your preliminary report to Command, but they want to have a full one now that you're awake. That's not all, though," he lifted his hand to stay the woman's words. "Hackett said we should haul our collective asses over to the Citadel and explain this mess to the big bosses themselves."

Shepard did a double take, then blanched and cursed. That earned her a reprimanding glance from the Captain, but she just kept staring at the man, disbelieving. "Did I hear you right? We are **not** going to whine to the damn Council," the Commander shook her head slowly and took a step back. A tight, mirthless laugh spilled from her lips and again she vehemently refused to go. "Is that so they can pin that Spectre guy on me?" Shepard threw her hands up in the air, continuing furiously. "Maybe tell us again what screw-ups we are? The mission went to fucklands just because that prissy **Turian** couldn't be bothered to work with us **lowly humans**," Shepard scoffed with disdain as she leaned on the railing of the command post. Her gaze wandered aimlessly across the CIC as she tried to collect her thoughts. She knew, somewhere deep down, that she was acting like a petulant child. Still, she didn't stop. "But no! Naturally it'll be **us** who fucked up," her voice was rising with incredulousness, "and we'll never see that shitting Spectre office, let alone the position on the **Council**. God forbid! We get to be guilty of **every** fucking mistake that **everyone else** really should be blamed for," the woman ground out between her teeth, clearly teetering on the edge of anger that had been simmering for some time.

"Commander! Cut it out this instant," the Captain's voice left no room for objection, and Lynn hung her head in defeat. No use in picking a fight with her commanding officer, especially when he was as good-natured as Anderson. Once you got on his bad side, you were really done for. The man wasn't cruel, but he was just; and right now, she deserved to be put in her place. _Shit, Lynn. Trying to get punished again, are we? Don't you think we ought to break this pattern?_ The voice mocked her again as she slowly lifted her eyes to face the music. Anderson was watching her intently, as if she were some curious new alien. She was half expecting him to say "Who are you and what have you done with Shepard?" No such nonsense came from the man's mouth, of course. He was always up for a good joke, except when his subordinates were giving him shit. Then he could be the biggest hardass in the Galaxy.

"What in the name of God was **that**, Shepard?" the tall man demanded, giving her the prodigy of all no-nonsense stares. The Commander swallowed, once, twice, then answered.

"Sorry, sir. It's just… I haven't been sleeping all that well lately. That dream… or whatever that was that the beacon left in my head… it's not really nice. More like a nightmare, really," Shepard winced at her own words, as if she were admitting a weakness. The Captain's taut posture relaxed as he placed a calming hand on his XO's shoulder. "We don't have a military psychologist here on the Normandy, but I'm sure there's a few on the Citadel. It's a big place, after all," he nodded to himself as if he remembered something. "I'll get you an appointment with this one guy that I know as soon as we're done with the Council, Shepard," he caught her eye and flinched at the distraught gaze that he received. "Just… don't burst out like that in front of them, alright? We've got enough to worry about as it is. I don't need them to suspend my finest XO," a small smile pulled at his lips, and Shepard tried to return it.

Anderson shook his head at her laughable attempt and clapped her on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, Shepard. You'll be fine." They both wanted to believe it, and they both failed miserably. He was just too good a Captain not to notice when something was seriously wrong with his crew, and he had just seen one of the most restrained, composed people he knew fly off the handle. There was something more than **wrong** here; Shepard was having severe issues. What it was about, though, he couldn't tell. The woman had certainly been through rough times lately, and it was a surprise, really, that she hadn't broken sooner. Then again, she always seemed like the type to keep it all in, compressed and hidden, until she couldn't stand the pain anymore. With a sigh, Anderson walked away while his mind lingered with the troubled Commander who remained there, leaning on the railing with fallen spirit and empty eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Commander Shepard had been restless for the rest of the ride to the Citadel. She constantly paced across the ship in a vain attempt to busy her thoughts, but nothing helped much. Whether it was reminiscing about the military high with Williams, bantering with Joker or bonding with Adams over their mutual love of machinery, the woman's ever shrewd mind would always cut through the dampening buzz and start screaming at her again. Even though she tried to hide it with some carefully applied make-up, the black circles under her eyes were also starting to show. The series of images the Prothean beacon had imparted on her wasn't getting any prettier; if anything, it was going into more and more unsettling detail.

Now, however, the brooding Commander was standing perfectly still and enjoying the few moments of peace granted to her on this voyage. She was leaning on the window of the mess hall, gazing at the wondrous display opening before her. Slowly, the mists enveloping the heart of galactic civilization parted before her eyes, shimmering with stardust as the Normandy sailed through them like thinly laid cotton. A rare, gentle smile pulled at the woman's lips as she gazed across the stunning, coruscant expanse. Then finally, the slightly parted arms of the Citadel peeked out between the clouds of the nebula, as if a small, shy child were looking around the corner.

Briefly, an image flashed before her inner eye – a girl, five years old at most, looking at her curiously from behind a tree – but disappeared as quickly as it had come. It had been enough, though, to shatter the light-hearted lull Commander had been coaxed into. With a self-deprecating, muttered curse, the woman pushed off the window and stalked away, never sparing a second glance to the nearing center of the Council space.

* * *

By the time they docked, Lynn had become even edgier than before, fiddling with the epaulettes on her shoulder and the buttons of her dress uniform. She hated the thing as much as any other marine, but had conceded the point to Anderson after a particularly long stare battle. Deep down, she knew that showing up in full armor to an audience with the Council would only further ensure mutual suspiciousness and unnecessary hostility, but found it hard to leave the ship without the familiar weight on her shoulders. As if having to conform to the stupid dress-code wasn't enough, the Captain and his entourage had been stripped of their weapons as well and escorted onto the station as if they were some kind of inter-galactic criminals.

Only the few select looks from Anderson kept her from voicing her disapproval to the C-Sec that walked far too close to them in her opinion. Nevertheless, the Captain couldn't stop her from glaring at their uniformed backs, hoping dearly that they could feel every ounce of her anger.

As their march continued - and the Commander could find no other word that would better describe their reception – the woman's fears welled up again. While she acknowledged that the attitude of her own race was partially to be blamed for the First Contact war, she couldn't – wouldn't – accept the way other species of the Council space were treating them now. They had long ago reached a truce and started expanding – peacefully – throughout the galaxy. Still, it seemed as most of the people that mattered in any way couldn't be bothered to care. It was as if humans were still some wild, uncivilized savages with technology on par with that of the cavemen. It was humiliating. Demeaning. **Painful**, for God's sake. And she refused to just stand by and watch as the high and mighty Asari, Salarians and Turians looked down on them as they crushed their attempts at cooperation underneath their heels.

When they finally stood before the Citadel tower, the Commander was far too immersed into her own private universe of anger and resentment to notice the elegant, stark white spire pointing into the star-riddled sky. Only when Anderson elbowed her did she lift her green eyes off the pavement and look up. What she saw had her heart skip a beat or two and gasp in amazement.

She was always capable of savoring beautiful views, and this one definitely counted among them. While she'd paid an occasional visit to the Citadel, she'd never stood this close to its heart; she had never had any reason to, after all. Now, she wished she had come here when the circumstances weren't belittling its startling magnificence. Suddenly, Lynn could understand why the myriad of people living in Council space idolized this tower and its occupants.

Another flash sped through her mind so quickly she almost couldn't catch it; a vivid image of a younger, happier self listening to her mother reading her a bedtime story. It was about old human mythologies, about the thousands of gods that her race had worshipped at one time. To the young girl it seemed silly that the now civilized humans had ever put any stock into the fantastic stories spilling from the pages of the old book. The ones she preferred were the Greek gods – Greeks were educated and cultured people, her mother had explained – who would bicker and banter and condemn whole peoples to doom and misery over the most insignificant of quarrels. What had captivated the young Lynn the most, however, was the imposing mountain they lived on; a white spire, not unlike the Citadel tower, atop which the gods convened to decide the fate of their herd.

_I'd wager that's how many perceive the Council,_ the Commander mused as C-Sec ushered them into the elevator, refusing to admit that she herself had, for the briefest of moments, felt what it was like to deify the trio.

* * *

"Commander Avengelyne Shepard, step forward," the voice of the Asari Councilor rang loud and clear across the chamber.

In the smothering tranquility, every step the soldier took reverberated until it reached a deafening volume that made her cringe. She kept her face an even, expressionless mask, however, and advanced onto the slightly lifted and extended platform that brought her closer to the Council. Her heart sank a bit as her heels clicked together on the plateau and only the knowledge that Anderson was there to back her up kept her churning emotions from bleeding through.

For a few torturous seconds that dragged on with a sluggish pace, everything remained silent. It was not the serene and soothing kind of quiet, though; it was foreboding and pregnant with things unsaid; it was the calm before the storm; it was the stillness of a snake coiled to strike, and Shepard could feel it as it slowly sank its venomous fangs into her flesh.

Then the suspense snapped like an over-strung bow, and words spilled forth like a flooding river across a dam.

The Salarian Councilor – Valern, if she remembered correctly – was the first to speak. His high, tinny voice hurt her ears almost as much as the things he was saying, but she maintained her stoic expression nonetheless. First came the damned accusations of course, carefully veiled in politician-speak so as to avoid overt hostility that could get the man in trouble. Still, he was no less efficient in delivery of his insults, however nice the gift-wrapping was. The worst of it all was the fact that almost everyone that wasn't severely lacking in the brain cell department could understand his conveyed meaning as well, making her humiliation all the more public.

As the Salarian exhausted his vocabulary and quieted – presumably to regroup – the Turian stepped in, scorn evident even through the nigh-illegible Turian face-plates. The Councilor enthusiastically picked up where his colleague had left off, dismissing her claims as unfounded and her only witness as an unreliable, lowly denizen of the worst kind. He went on to elaborate that they couldn't just take one marine's word against that of a well-respected, successful Spectre.

When his flow of words dwindled, the Commander half feared the Asari would continue their rant until there was nothing left of what she could hold on to, but her worries were for naught. Well, that's what she thought, at least, but her rising hopes were quickly shot down when a holo to the left of the Council sprang up, featuring none other than the accused himself.

Shepard found herself staring into the eyes of Saren Arterius for the first time, and didn't like the feeling one bit. The Turian was tall, well built and decked head-to-toe in heavy, imposing armor. What caught the woman off guard the most, though, was his face. She'd seen and talked to many a Turian before, but had never encountered eyes like his. Even in the uniform orange of the holo, the two seemingly bottomless pits seemed to shine through and bore into her soul. For the longest time, she held the stare of those two burning stars, and God only knows how long it would've went on if the Council hadn't piped up again.

"Not only do you accuse a reputable Spectre of killing his comrade of many years, but you also insist that the Geth were on Eden Prime. We were led to believe that you were one of the prime examples of what Alliance N7 represents, but these… far-fetched fabrications leave much to be desired, Commander," the Turian spoke again, his white facial paint doing little to conceal the contempt in his flanging voice.

The words barely registered with the woman as she continued to glare the Spectre's way, her green eyes positively **boiling **with anger. She responded slowly and between greeted teeth even as she refused to look away.

"I assure you, in my report there's nothing but the truth. You may not believe me, and you have every reason not to. As you said, the investigation you launched in the light of my report yielded nothing. Therefore, I see no other way to a solution than letting **me** lead another one," the restraint with which she spoke surprised even the Commander herself as she finally faced the Council again. Before her new-found calm could evaporate, she continued.

"As you've said it yourself, I am the epitome of the N7 unit. I hereby swear to conduct it to the best of my abilities and deliver you an accurate assembly of facts and evidence that cannot be disputed. And even if I have nothing to show after I'm done, you've lost nothing. I would not impose on your busy schedules any longer, Councilors. Just let me do my job and I promise I won't come back empty-handed," she hated the fact that she was nigh pleading there at the end, but what she had seen in Saren's eyes had convinced her that any sacrifice was worth making, so long as it would bring him to justice. Her dignity was the least of her worries if the unfathomable monstrosity she had seen lurking behind those white orbs was ever set free. For all her bitterness and misanthropy, she couldn't let that happen. Not while she still drew breath.

"That's outrageous!" The Spectre roared out and directed his terrifying eyes at the Council. "You can't in your right mind let her do that! We've already seen that's she's just another incompetent human. If there was anything to find, the C-Sec would've already uncovered it. She's just wasting your time and doing everything she can to sully the memory of a good, loyal Turian!" With those words, the Turian turned on his heel again, sneering at the Commander. "And you! Do you even know what you're doing, or are you just another of those Alliance sheep? Nihlus was a dear friend and a reliable comrade in countless battles, and you would stand there, with the gall to accuse me of killing him?!" The usual illegibility of Turian expressions was swept away at that moment, and Lynn could feel her heart jump painfully in her chest. She had seen many a gruesome scene in her career as an N7 marine, but the pure, burning hatred in Saren's eyes had her pinned on the spot. If the Turian had been really there and decided to pull a gun on the soldier, she would never have reacted in time.

And that terrified her more than the goriest of massacres she had ever witnessed.

Her mind was still in a haze as one of the Councilors intervened, requesting that the Spectre calm down. Later, Shepard would wonder if it wasn't exactly that outburst that tipped the scales in her favor, but presently, she was just as shocked as everybody else in the room when, moments later, the Asari Councilor announced their decision.

"You may conduct your… **investigation**, Commander. Any infraction of the law on your part, however, will immediately terminate the possibility to reopen this case, as will obstructing officials in doing their duties. Keep in mind that we allow this solely because of the overwhelming amount of recommendations in your file. We give you one more chance to back out now, Commander," the Asari could've very well been a Turian, for all her features told the soldier. Deciding that studying their faces further would produce no useful results, the Commander ventured.

"And why would I do that?" her voice was laced with resentment as she narrowed her eyes at the trio.

"Because you know as well as we do that there are other things at stake here. If you fail to deliver, your actions will have repercussions for all of humanity, not just your personal record," this time it was the Salarian that put her on the spot, his big, dark eyes unforgiving as they met hers. Shepard bit her cheek to suppress the expletive and retorted only when she was sure she'd swallowed the word.

"I know full well what I'm doing, Councilors. I thank you for your time and consideration," her own voice sounded alien to her as she spoke, wondering if they could tell how hard she was trying to maintain the level of civility and propriety they commanded.

"Very well, Commander. You are allotted two standard weeks' time to find any new, compelling and irrefutable evidence if you wish to reopen this case. Until then, Spectre Saren Arterius is free of all charges and at liberty to practice his rights just as every other citizen of Council space. This meeting is adjourned."

* * *

"I can't believe they would just let him go like that," said Anderson the moment they were out of the hearing chamber. His features were etched with offense and a significant amount of worry as he placed a hand on Shepard's shoulder in order to stop her in her tracks.

"Neither can I," the Commander sighed as she let her mask fall. There was more than just concern in those green eyes, Anderson realized as he returned his XO's gaze. Before her could inquire about it, however, the woman continued. "But that's how politics work. And besides, he's a Spectre. What were we expecting, really?" Shepard let out a self-deprecating scoff and headed for the elevator.

Before Anderson could pursue the angry woman, he felt a hand on his own shoulder. When he turned around he found himself in the company of none other than the human Ambassador, a despicable man called Udina. Only years of training kept the contempt off his face as he forced his lips into a taut smile.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Ambassador?" he offered his hand in a vain attempt at pleasantries, but the Italian heritage of the Ambassador easily shone though his politician's façade as he tore straight to the point.

"How did the meeting go? I still can't believe their audacity! Not letting me into the hearing! What kind of attitude is that? Anti-human, is what I tell you. Always with the same tricks up their sleeves! When will humanity be given the respect and recognition we deserve?" It seemed that the man had forced it all out in a single breath, because when he was finally done, the color of his face had become reminiscent of a boiled lobster. Anderson bit down a smile at that association and made his reply as concise as possible.

"Relatively well, considering what kind of a gamble it all was to begin with. Shepard won us a chance at our own investigation, thankfully. They've let the Spectre go, though. Can't have it all, I guess. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find my XO before something gets blown up," the Captain extricated himself out of the conversation and made his escape before the nosy politician could follow up with more questions.

When he finally caught up with her was treated to a surprising sight. The soldier was talking to a C-Sec guard, a Turian with blue facial tattoos that they had spotted in front of the hearing chambers right before they had been escorted inside. Anderson hadn't paid him any heed at the time, thinking he was just another sentry stationed there for security reasons, but apparently it wasn't so.

As he neared the pair, a few distinguished words made their way to his ears through the heated jumble of their debate. At the sound of 'Saren', 'dirty' and 'evidence', the captain quickened his step and joined his XO. Shepard turned around to greet him with a short nod and then related to him everything she'd learned from the Turian. Apparently, he'd been the one conducting the first investigation into the supposedly rogue Spectre, and was quite frustrated when it was cut short. That's where the man himself interjected, offering his whole-hearted cooperation in the new investigation that they'd been granted by the Council.

"I've already done the groundwork and asking around, so you'd be wasting time if you didn't take my findings. If we work together, though, we can be far more productive. Not to mention that I've got connections here that none of you don't," the Turian pointed out in a gruff voice, nodding slightly to emphasize his point.

Anderson and Shepard exchanged a lingering glance as they both considered the convenient offer. It was the Captain who finally spoke, accepting the Turian's help with a smile on his face. He ignored the slight scowl on his XO's face and shook the guard's three-fingered hand. "I do hope you two find something incriminating. I'd hate to see that hideous excuse for a Spectre running around unimpeded. Meanwhile, I'm going to inquire with some of my military contacts. Page me if you stumble upon anything useful." With that, the Captain stalked off with purpose in his stride as the two soldiers took the elevator and continued discussing their investigation strategies.


End file.
